


muppet drabbles!

by fizzinq



Category: The Muppet Show
Genre: Drabble Collection, Multi, also a lot of these are depressing, idk probably more later - Freeform, individual tags will be in the notes!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 12:38:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17203559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzinq/pseuds/fizzinq
Summary: my friends bullied me into posting all of my 2 am writings on ao3 so theyre here now!





	1. disclaimers and notes

okay this is a summary chapter mostly!

so here's the thing: i do a lot more writing than i post here. a lot of it is imperfect and written at 2 am in my notes app, just to get something out onto... paper... or typing or whatever.  
a lot of it is inspired by  music, too; it'll be posted at the beginning!  
there are also a lot of instances in which it could be considered as... Very Sad™, possibly with triggering content inside. i'll put the triggers up in the notes!

a second one- uhh some of the works refer to one of the characters as "audrey stone." this isn't an oc! it refers to the below.

one last thing is that a lot of these have to do with floyd. this is because im kin w floyd! like, fictionkin. fictionkin is defined as "a connection, often spiritual, with a fictional character or species deep enough to identify as them" (@fictkinhelp on tumblr). it's also commonly used as a coping mechanism. im not sure how mine ties in with much, but that is a thing that's going on!  
uhhh in this little... canon universe thing, i was trans, and audrey stone was my deadname. i'm really okay with it being known, and i use it commonly because i didn't know i was until long into my life.  
i accept questions about this, too! i love teaching about it!!

that's all! thank you!


	2. stowaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That made the thought dawn on him: could something have happened at home?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey welcome to hell heres some tws  
> \- religious guilt if that counts  
> \- implied lesbophobia  
> \- implied throwings of the up  
> \- i really cant think of anything else lmk

Zoot answered the knock at the door and was a bit more than taken aback at what he saw.

On his porch stood Audrey, shaking and very obviously trying to bring herself down from a strong cry, with a blanket and a very full backpack slung on her shoulder. She was tense; she white-knuckled the arm of her backpack, her posture was extremely closed up, and her breaths were choked back. Zoot had never seen Audrey this wound up before.

She took in a deep breath, and forced out a sentence. “Can I come in for a while?”

Zoot nodded and opened the door wider for her.

Audrey hurried in, slipping off her shoes in the doorway and hurrying up the stairs before he could even say ‘hello.’ He heard her stumble in the hallway before turning into his room and shutting the door. Zoot stood there with the door open for a moment as it all processed. He was a lot calmer than he expected to be. He shut the door, and shuffled over to the living room doorway.

“Mom?” He looked over his sunglasses at her. His mother was sat in a large, green armchair, reading a book by the clouded sunlight.

His mother looked up from her book. “Something?”

“Just lettin’ you know Audrey’s over. Something seems wrong. Is it okay that I’m upstairs for a while?” He held onto the doorway, playing with the wooden trim. Concern covered what was visible of his face and dripped from his words.

“Of course. I’m gonna start dinner in a few, okay? I’ll call when it’s ready.”

Zoot smiled softly and nodded. “Thanks, mom.” With that, he walked up the stairs, standing at the door a moment. He put his hand on the knob, and pressed his ear to the door.

Audrey was sat on the floor of Zoot’s room. She wasn’t crying, really, but her breathing was still unsteady. Everything was just behind a barrier that, if given anymore pressure, would break. She played with the carpet, focusing hard on it as she pulled the strands with her fingers.

Zoot sat and listened for a while, ruminating on what could be going on (he was very good with deduction). She had bags packed, and seemed very furtive, though in a more tense way, almost out of necessity. She wanted to do nothing more than to hide... but that wasn’t the Audrey he knew. The Audrey he knew climbed trees and hung upside-down from the branches; she pedaled her bike as fast as she could and then let the wheels and the wind take her; she hopped fences and tore down rotted wood to get into places long condemned. The Audrey he knew laughed in the face of danger, and probably would’ve flipped it off, had that not been an affront to God.

That made the thought dawn on him: could something have happened at home?

He knocked their special knock - it followed a heartbeat, with the second beat split into three - and came inside. He did everything slowly, daintily, as if he were sneaking around a very sensitive alarm system. He came from the other side of his bed and sat on the edge closer to Audrey; he wasn’t directly behind her, but was still in an easy place to reach her. A hand went gently to the small of Audrey’s back. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

Audrey shook her head.

•

“Dinner!”

The call came up the stairs and through the thin wood of Zoot’s bedroom door. He and Audrey both looked towards the doorway, then at each other, holding a sort of mental conversation.

“You wanna go down?” Zoot thought.

Hesitantly, Audrey thought back a “yes.”

Zoot stood and helped Audrey up. Audrey was actually fairly excited; she loved Zoot’s mom’s cooking was always wonderful. It was warm, and flavorful, and she got so many different foods here than she’d ever had at home. But as she went down the stairs, she realized she wasn’t sure how she’d stomach it; she’d felt sick for hours. She decided she’d try. In fact, maybe the food would make her feel better. She followed Zoot into the dining room.

“Hi, Audrey.” Zoot’s mom said. Her smile beamed. She liked Audrey. “It’s nice to have you over! How are you?”

Audrey greeted her with a wave, and answered her question with a noncommittal tilt of the head and shrug of the shoulders. She wasn’t much in a state of mind or throat to speak.

The older woman’s face turned to concern. She glanced at her son, who made a similar face back, and then a flick of the corner of the mouth. He didn’t know what to do either. Then, she looked back to Audrey. “I’m sorry, honey,” she said, putting a soft hand on Audrey’s shoulder. “If you need anything, my husband and I are always here, okay?”

Audrey smiled and nodded, then sat down. She managed out a “thank you” before her voice died again.

Zoot and his parents sat for a moment, only a moment, giving a blessing narrated by the father. Audrey watched. They’d come to some sort of mutual agreement that they said their respective graces separately; it was sort of like a landline, to whoever was up there.

When they were done, Audrey began on her own. She clasped her hands together nervously, bowed her head, and sat there for a while. Her weight shifted uncomfortably, and her face scrunched up. After another small while, she pulled her hands apart, crossed herself, looked up, and flashed a smile.

Zoot knew she was hurrying for a reason. Concern covered his face again. He simply pushed up his glasses and began to eat.

Audrey, comparatively, picked up her fork and awkwardly played with her food. She pushed it into the potatoes, rearranged the spaghetti, and rolled a few green beans around. Hesitantly, she took a bite.

Dinners at Zoot’s house were always noticeably quiet. Not for any bad reason, really; they just weren’t a talkative family, that was all. But the silence felt suffocating, to Audrey. She had no cover; no background noise to fade into. She was very bare, here, subject to any questions thrown her way. She put down her fork, instead opting to take a drink.

“Audrey?”

Audrey spat out her drink - into her cup, luckily.

“Could you pass the salt?” Zoot’s father looked at her and smiled.

She shuddered out a breath, nodded, and passed the shaker over.

“Thank you.”

“Mm.” She couldn’t get anything more out. She hoped that sufficed. She went back to playing with her food, and tried, hesitantly, to eat. She was doing surprisingly well. She did for a while.

After a few minutes, Zoot’s mother spoke. “...Is everything alright, Audrey?” She’d noticed her strange behavior, and her mom instincts were starting to kick in. Something was wrong - she just knew that.

Audrey stared at her. Suddenly, all eyes were on her, she felt it. Everyone wanted to know what happened, what she did, who she was to have her having to seek solace here of all places. She didn’t know Zoot’s parents well- not at all, in fact! She couldn’t tell them. What if they didn’t accept her? She’d have nowhere to go. And if she had nowhere to go, she had nothing to do but-

She felt her stomach turn. “I- I have to, uh-“ She shot up out of her chair and ran out, covering her mouth.

Zoot watched her leave, then looked at his mother for a moment. He stumbled out a quick me’en shalosh, then stood up and followed her.

She was in the bathroom. She was sick, and she was crying. Zoot had never seen her this vulnerable before. He wasn’t sure what to do here. Hopeless, he sat outside, clutching the front of his shirt, and worried.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

•

“...I got kicked out.”

Audrey had finally found her breath and her footing again; now, the two of them were on Zoot’s bed, with Zoot sitting up against the headboard and Audrey laying next to him. It was dark out, now; the only light was from the dim nightlight on the bedside and the street lamps outside. The dark was calmer; Audrey and Zoot had agreed to keeping the lights off for now.

Zoot was and wasn’t surprised. He knew Audrey’s parents, if vaguely; this may have been something they’d do, if it was bad enough. He stayed silent to let her explain.

“I... I don’t know how. I- They found out I liked girls, and-and told me to leave. I packed everything I could fit in my backpack and ran.”

...No, that’s totally something they’d do.

Zoot was still surprised - and fairly disgusted. He’d known that Audrey was a lesbian for a long time - probably as long as she’d known, too - but the fact that they kicked her out so quickly was astonishing to him, and not in a good way. He gasped, sad and slow. “Oh, Audrey...” He searched for her in the dark and held her in a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry.”

Audrey wrapped her arms around him, ramping up again. She sniffled and buried her head into his shoulder. “I- I can’t go back there- they can’t find me again. If they do, I- I can’t- I can’t imagine what they-they’d do to me-“ Her whole body started to shake. She was terrified.

This was the first time Zoot had seen her scared, let alone this scared. He rubbed her back and played with her hair. He didn’t know what to say... But that was okay. Audrey didn’t either. They sat there in the dark like that for a long time. Audrey cried and Zoot hummed to her as some strange attempt at lullaby. After a while, Audrey finally pulled away. “Can- Can I sta-y here-?” She stuttered out.

“Absolutely,” Zoot said. “I have to tell my p-“

“No. No, no, please, please PLEASE don’t tell them what happened- I don’t want to get kicked out of here, please-“ Desperation dripped from her voice. She really did have nowhere else to go aside from here, and if Zoot’s parents rejected her, well...

Zoot knew that Audrey didn’t know his parents well... He was pretty sure that they were fine. But he knew that she wouldn’t believe him - and he didn’t want to betray her trust. “I won’t tell them. I’m just gonna say you’re sleeping over, or something.”

Audrey breathed. “...Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry.” She said, pulling away and switching on one of the lamps. Audrey wiped her tears and watched Zoot leave before starting to rummage around for a hairbrush. Maybe that would make her feel better.

Zoot popped into the kitchen, peeking around the corner and holding onto the trim, just as he had earlier. “Hey Mom?”

His mother looked over from the sink and smiled. “Come in, honey!” She pushed her glasses up on her face with a shoulder.

“Uh, Audrey’s gonna be staying over for tonight. And maybe a few more... And a few more.” He straightened his glasses back at her.

The mother furrowed her brow. “A few?” She asked, finishing that plate and moving onto the next one.

“...Yeah. She, uh...”

“She?”

Zoot paused, and shuffled, looking down at his feet. “Her parents kicked her out. Of her house.”

He could’ve heard a pin drop in the sudden cold silence that draped itself across the room. His mother stopped washing the dishes, and her eyes widened, tilting towards her son with dead shock. So that’s why she’d been acting so weird... She put her dish down, pushed off her gloves, and stood in front of Zoot, putting both hands on his shoulders. “You go and tell Audrey that she is welcome here as long as she needs to be. And let it be known that I will talk to her parents if I have to.”

“I... I don’t think she wants you to,” he said. “I don’t think they’d negotiate.”

“And why not?” She asked.

Zoot had talked himself into a corner. That would require breaking his promise. He said all he knew to say.

“...Uh.”


	3. a thing called love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Floyd stopped playing. He didn’t even hear Zoot sit down... He was that focused on his bass. A wide smile spread across his face. “...You’re singin’ along.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haouahOHAUHOAUHAUHaohuOAHao ntheres no real tws for this one but its based on a thing called love by steve king and also im gay. thanks

Muted metal plucks rang out into the dark motel room as Floyd twanged at his bass. Though the Mayhem had found a cheap place to sleep (96 bucks for the each of them, no cockroaches, and two beds?? What a steal!), the bassist wasn’t tired at all. In fact, he couldn’t get comfortable in the plush mattresses and starchy sheets. So, he was sat sideways in one of the room’s chairs, plucking and waiting for something to come to mind.

As he plucked, he looked around the room, and caught the sleeping silhouette of Zoot in his vision. Strangely, the silhouette was... Moving awkwardly, undulating and tugging at the covers, trying and failing to get comfortable. He thought... Maybe a serenade would help the poor soul get to sleep. So, he wracked his brain for some smidgeon of an idea of what to play. He thought, and thought, and thought, and finally...

Floyd adjusted his hand on the fingerboard, and strummed. His smoky voice and deep guitar, both quieted for the time, came into the silent room.

“ _There’s a thing that they call love; it makes you quicken your pace._ ”

The sleeping figure stilled, but it wasn’t asleep. Zoot could feel eyes and focus upon him... But, for once, he wasn’t all that concerned about the attention. He sat up slowly.

Floyd continued. “ _It’s a ponytail, new perfume, and a mighty pretty face..._ ”

Zoot slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Animal and Lips, whom he was sharing the bed with. He tiptoed his way to Floyd.

“ _It sneaks up on tiptoe to flip your heart up above..._ ”

Zoot sat in the chair next to him. This was one of the songs he knew; one of the songs he sang along to whenever it came on the radio. It was calm and comfortably in his range, no matter how small it was. He finished the verse. “ _...There you are, hanging from a star in the middle of a thing called love._ ”

Floyd stopped playing. He didn’t even hear Zoot sit down... He was that focused on his bass. A wide smile spread across his face. “...You’re singin’ along.”

“Yeah, man!” Zoot replied, with the first genuine smile that had landed on his face in a long time. It was small, but it reflected Floyd’s in proportion. “I thought I’d join you again. For old time’s sake, y’know?”

The happiness that Floyd felt was almost indescribable. It had been so long since they’d jammed together - just the two of them. They’d done this last in that dusty house in Tennesseee, the one where Fl- No, Audrey had made her best home after she had to leave her old one. Though it wasn’t the best time Floyd could remember, it was very high up there. Those moments in Zoot’s bedroom, just listening to music and feeling the moon’s rays on his face, were some of the most serene he’d ever felt. He held his bass closer, remembering the moments fondly. “Yeh... Old time’s sake.”

“So what’re ya waiting for, man, lay down that groove again, huh?” Zoot urged with a laugh. He moved his posture; he was now kneeling in his seat!

“Alright!” Floyd responded. He played a beginning riff to let Zoot get back on time. “You take this one, alright?”

And take it Zoot did! He swayed gently in his seat as he sang along. “ _The stars get behind you; the moonlight gives you a show!_ ”

Floyd was already entranced. He was so happy to see Zoot this... Up and ready again, even if it was at two in the morning. He watched Zoot’s hair bounce around and curl around his face, around his smile, oh that cute little smile... But what took his breath away was what came next.

“ _And there you are, hanging from a star..._ ” Zoot, knowing how dark it was in the room, but how easy it was to see, took off his glasses for the first time in years. “ _...in the middle of a thing called love. Take it!_ ”

Somehow, Floyd had gotten lost in those eyes in seconds. But he snapped out of it as fast as he snapped in. “O- Oh, uh- He- uhhh- _here you go, wadin’ into trouble; here you go, now you’re seein’ double-_ “ He switched the lyrics, now, hoping Zoot didn’t hear him. “ _He is twice as cute, twice as sweet to boot as any boy you knew before it happened..._ ”

Zoot didn’t notice. He took the verse right back, now wiggling in... Multiple directions. “ _You’re hopin’ she’ll find her way up above..._ ”

Floyd was lost in him again.

“ _To where you are, hangin’ from a star in the middle of a thing called love._ ” Zoot actually got up and started moving around in that little area of clear floor. It wasn’t quite a dance, really - more of an elaborate pace - but he was moving his arms and spun a few times, so in his head, it counted. He got back into his seat in time to sing along again. “ _Here you go wadin’ into trouble; here you go, now you’re seein’ double; she is twice as cute, twice as sweet to boot as any girl you knew before it happened~_ ”

Floyd took the verse from him, trying to inch closer to him. “ _You’re hopin’ he’ll find his way up above... To where you are, hangin’ from a star in the middle of a thing called love._ Take it!”

Zoot noticed, that time. He felt the tinge rise to his face, and noticed the same on Floyd’s; he was too tired to care. Everyone was asleep anyway. “ _...In the middle of a thing called love._ ”

Floyd harmonized with him, leaning in and tilting his head. “ _In the middle of a thing called love._ ” He felt Zoot’s hand touch his shoulder, and goodness, they were getting close, but then-

“Oh thank _God_ you guys finally shut up,” Lips spoke into the dark. The ray of light, reflecting in a rain puddle from a street lamp, illuminated Lips’s very annoyed face. “In case you two didn’t notice, I was trying to get my beauty sleep. If you two don’t get in bed I will put you to sleep where you stand.” He tapped his fingers impatiently on the comforter.

Floyd and Zoot pulled away from each other, fully embarrassed. Zoot actually hugged himself, as if he was trying to cover himself up, despite being, y’know, clothed.

Floyd let out a sheepish laugh. “Alright, man... Sorry fer wakin’ ya.” He clambered down from his position, and set his bass up on its stand, waiting for Zoot to pick up his glasses and join him.

With his glasses back on his face, Zoot walked towards the blob in the dark that was probably Floyd, and actually... Took his hand. He looked down at Floyd and smiled.

Floyd smiled back. His grin was definitely a lot goofier than Zoot’s; it pushed into his face to the point where it hurt. He was happy to be affectionate with Zoot again... This affectionate was new, but just the whole thing made him happy, really.

He could get used to this.


	4. remember me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you’re reading this, thanks for the memories, man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huhauohHAUHahaaaaAAAAAAAAAAA ILVOE ZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT  
> uhhh tws  
> \- drug use  
> \- that's it  
> and the playlist that inspired this was... kinnie. here it is it makes me cry https://8tracks.com/theawesomemoomoo/wish-you-were-here

As usual, Zoot woke up slowly. Somehow, he’d managed to wake up at a fairly unreasonable hour (his watch read 5:14 AM; the sky was fringed with just the fingertips of cerulean sunrise); despite this, he couldn’t feel the urge to go back to sleep. However, he did feel something - a heavy something, resting on his stomach.

Zoot straightened his sunglasses, and lifted the envelope that was left on his body. He didn’t remember having this before - then again, Zoot didn’t remember much in the first place - but he didn’t need to worry about a possibly lost item. The envelope was addressed to him, in wide, zealous handwriting that could only belong to Floyd. He turned his head, checking on his friend, who was fast asleep and snoring in the seat across from him. One leg was curled up on the seat, and the other had fallen onto the floor, resting in a very awkward position on the side of the foot. A pen was on the seat next to him, left open from the night before. The whole scene radiated an energy that was, in all aspects, very Floyd. Zoot laughed to himself and opened the envelope.

Inside the envelope was a cassette tape (with his name scrawled on it once more, along with a fairly crude drawing of the two of them on the front, surrounded by stars and arrows) and a piece of paper folded in thirds, with the words “READ THIS FIRST” printed on the front. Obeying the instructions, Zoot unfolded the sheet of paper, turning his head and yawning into his forearm as he did. The letter was wrinkled in some places, and heavily decorated with scribbled-out words, dots, and swirls. The letter itself, though fairly long-winded, was actually fairly short. Propping his glasses farther up on his face, Zoot began to read.

> “Zoot-
> 
> Sorry if delivering this to you like this is strange.
> 
> I’ve been thinking a lot about how we managed to get here, y’know? All of the things you and I went through - together and apart. And thinking about it fills my chest with this cosmic feeling (and you know how bad I am with those). It feels heavy, but not a bad heavy? Like a big warm blanket. It pulls on my heart and makes my stomach turn, but it’s not bad. It makes me miss the times then, back when it was just you and I. But at the same time, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here. Dig it?
> 
> I love being here with you and everyone else. I love seeing how we’ve changed but still been there for the circumstances - no matter how tough it gets. We’ve managed to turn our situations totally inside-out and lived through it! And we’re not even done yet! We still have so many places to go! And we’re gonna do it!! I’m so proud of us - I’m so proud of you!
> 
> This got real sappy real fast. To get to the point, I made you a mixtape! It’s all songs that make me think of you.
> 
> If you’re reading this, thanks for the memories, man.
> 
> \- Floyd”

Zoot wasn’t sure how to feel. He felt that heavy chest feeling, too. He wanted to cry, but he felt like he shouldn’t. He just vibed with everything Floyd had put in that letter, and was happy he was cared about that much. It was a strange thing to be so happy about - a playlist, of all things... but then again, that wasn’t really what struck him. He filtered through his memory and found what stuck with him.

He remembered the long days resting in the fields under the clouds. He remembered Audrey picking out shapes in them, and having to get up and contort his neck to see what she saw. He’d scrunch up his face and neck, and Audrey would always laugh at him for it - but he had to admit, that was pretty funny of him to do. He probably looked like a turtle!

He remembered hearing the news, of Audrey getting kicked out of her house. She waited on his doorstep in tears, a backpack with everything she could carry inside of it and a blanket slung over her shoulder, and remembered taking her in. She slept on the floor in his room, and was happy to do it - anything to be away from them, from there. He remembered their long nighttime discussions, and even though he didn’t really understand most of what she said, he was okay with just listening. He’d always been a listener.

He remembered the day they’d packed all of their belongings into that beat-up red Chevy and started their journey to here. He remembered the long discussions with his parents, the ‘yes, yes, I promise I’ll write back,’ and all of the quivering stomachs and wayward hearts that had led them to where they truly belonged. He remembered the long open roadways, with nothing but trees and asphalt for miles, and how repetitive and boring it got. He remembered sleeping in the back in the nights, hotboxing it in the days. He remembered the pungent smoky smell that stayed in the seats until he finally convinced Audrey to buy some incense and at least cover it up.

He remembered finally pulling into California, finally being surrounded with the scene they’d admired from afar for so long. He remembered all of the shirtless, dirty, long-haired hippies, all of the music, all of the herd immunity to sadness. He remembered the music festival, and hearing Audrey talk his ear off about the beautiful girl she’d met at the festival, who’d helped her up when she tripped. He remembered finally learning Janice’s name - and, a while later, Floyd finally learning his name, too.

He remembered meeting Leon, and watching the smile spread on Floyd’s face when he was finally called by the right name. He remembered watching Leon scan him and Floyd up and down with some of the friendliest eyes he’d ever seen on any person, and he remembered taking that warm hand and shaking it with vigor.

After that, a lot of it was a blur. But it was a good blur. It was a warm, colorful blur, with flowers drifting in its psychedelia. It was a bright blur that adorned each one of them - their hair, their clothes, their voices, even the bus. It was a home. It was a family. It was a place to belong.

Zoot folded the letter and pocketed it, closing his eyes as he reached under his glasses to wipe them. He slid his Birkenstocks back on, and walked quietly to the small, portable cassette player, carrying it back to his seat. He popped the compartment open, and slid the tape inside. Afterwards, he pressed the clear, plastic door shut until it clicked. He pressed down the play button, and the player whirred to life. As the first song came in, Zoot turned to the sunrise, watching the very first pinholes of sunlight come over the horizon.

He remembered. Maybe not for long, but he remembered.


	5. telephone line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Audrey held the receiver in her hands for a while, listening to the dial tone hum in her ear once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huhuauhauwhuawuhauahuaha i also love Jnaice.  
> uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh no tws for this one i dont think.  
> but its based on telephone line by elo which is a whole bop

9:17. Audrey pulled up to the telephone box on the side of the road, searching through her jacket pocket for the surplus of quarters and the small shred of paper. On the paper was seven digits, written in the curviest handwriting she’d ever seen. Yes, she’d gotten a number that night, and now she was going to put it to use. Once she confirmed that she had everything she needed, she put her hand on her friend Zoot’s shoulder, shaking him awake. “Zoot,” she whispered.

No response.

“Zoot,” she whispered, more intensely than before, shaking him harder.

Still nothing.

“ZOOT!”

Zoot’s unconscious body started with a jolt, and he bolted up from his slumped position in his seat. His glasses and hat were off-kilter, revealing just a bit of his eyes underneath. “Wha- what! I’m awake, I’m awake!” He shouted back, pausing in a strange position and noticing that it was only Audrey. “...Oh,” He said, loosening up and fixing his glasses. “What’s up?”

“I’m gonna use the phone. Stay here and watch the car, okay?” She made one last pat at her jacket to check for - yes, there it was - a small blade to protect herself. “The last thing we need is fer this car and your body t’ be carted off in the night? y’know?”

“I gotcha.” He said, leaning back. As Audrey left the car, he continued. “Hey?”

“What’s up?” She ducked her head back in the door.

“Don’t spend too much time in there, alright?” He pointed at the clock. 9:21. “It’s late; we gotta get somewhere we can sleep.”

Ah, that Zoot and his sleep. Audrey rolled her eyes. “Sure, man.” She came back out and shut the door of the beat up red Chevy loudly behind her. Sucking in a deep breath of the cool California air, she thought about how much it took her to get to this moment (not for long, of course; it still bothered her, how long it took). Smelling the ocean and the smoke still in the air, and feeling the breeze on her face, Audrey walked briskly to the telephone booth. She took the phone off the hook, and held it between her head and shoulder, depositing a dollar in quarters into the machine.

...Now was the hard part.

Audrey took the number out of her pocket and stared at it for a while. Should she really do this? Would it work? Would the woman on the other end even recognize her? Her pulse quickened just to think about it. She took a deep breath once more, and gingerly dialed in the number. She put intense care in each digit, making sure that there was no wrong answer. She input the last number, and heard the dial tone change to a ring in her ear. She leaned against the wall of the telephone box, and waited in agony. What was she, some sort of masochist?

East a few blocks, south a couple more, and up seven floors, a phone rang. 9:28.

Audrey rehearsed as she waited. “Hello, how are you, we met at the music festival. No, no, hello, we met at the-“

“Hullo?” The ring was replaced with a click and a voice, one she’d heard just a few hours before. “This is Janice.”

“Janice! Hiya!” Audrey swallowed a lump in her throat. “Uhh, how are y—“

“Like, who am I speaking with right now?” Janice twirled the spiral cord of the telephone around her finger as she waited for a response.

“Oh! Uh, Audrey!” Silence. “We, uh, we met at the music festival? We danced for a while, you gave me your number.”

Janice thought for a moment, then gasped. “Audrey! I’m rilly sorry I didn’t know who you were...”

Audrey could hear her smile through the phone. Her heart fluttered; Janice was actually happy to talk to her! “It’s all good. Uh... How are ya?” She peeked out into the car to check on Zoot; he’d already fallen back asleep. Zoot was a very funny man sometimes.

“I’m doing great! I was, like, just heading to bed when you called. I’m, like, rilly cozy right now.” 9:29.

“Ah, I’m sorry... Didn’t mean t’ disturb you. If you want, I can ha—“

“No, no, I’d rather talk to you.” She giggled, and yawned into her hand. “Fer sure.”

That left Audrey near speechless. “...For sure.” She let out a sighing little laugh, and tried to pick herself up, only to be cut off once again. “Uh—“

“You’re, like, rilly cute.” Janice continued, tangling the wire between a couple of her fingers, now. “You’re a good dancer, too. Would you, like, be interested in seeing each other again sometime?”

God, it’s like she knew. Audrey babbled into the receiver for a moment, absolutely taken aback by how up-front Janice was with her feelings. “I- uh- I-“ She didn’t even know what to say! Would she be too desperate if she said yes? Was this the perfect opportunity? What was going on? Finally, she just out and said it. “...Yeah!”

“Groovy!” Just the way she said words was cute. “How’s, like... Saturday at 5 sound? Wanna catch a movie?”

“Sounds wo- ...outta sight.” Audrey still wasn’t used to this slang yet. “We’ll see which one when we get there?”

Janice giggled again. “That’s the spirit! I’ll catch’ya there. Fer now, I’m gonna crash, okay?”

“Okay! Uh... Can I call you again tomorrow?”

“Like, sure!” Janice’s smile was, again, audible. She could’ve been saying how happy she was blatantly and it wouldn’t be any different.

“Cool. Uh... Goodnight.” Again, Audrey’s heart fluttered in her chest. It felt funny to be saying that.

“Night! Sleep good.”

“You too.” As she heard the phone move, she started again. “I lo—“

“What was that? Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“Oh. Uh... Nothing.” Audrey’s face lit up pinker than usual; she’d almost been caught.

A pause. “...Okay! Night, Audrey!”

“Goodnight.” Click. Audrey held the receiver in her hands for a while, listening to the dial tone hum in her ear once more. She hung up the phone, pressed the coin return (she got back a quarter), and got back in the car with a heavy sigh.

A wide smile had spread across Audrey’s face, and she held the number in her pocket tighter. There was someone out there she loved who might truly love her back - and she was going to talk to her tomorrow. Tomorrow, then Saturday.

The clock read 9:32 as she finally put the car back in drive.


	6. can't get it out of my head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Janice... Darlin’,” Floyd whispered, gently tapping her forearm. “‘S our song, on th’ radio.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AIYNYUAAHAHUAHAAAAAAAAAI LVEO JAC ENI  
> uhhh tws  
> \- a little bit of implied nsfw  
> i think thats it lol  
> its based on uhhhhhhhh cant get it out of my head by elo... thats the song its supposed to be set to

The Mayhem tour bus quietly thunked itself along the ribbon of road that led from one city to the next. It was dark outside, now - the clock at the console read 3:09 AM - and the only light miles from here came from the candles hot-glued to some of the bus’s surfaces, the workings at the front, the occasional settlement they rushed by, and, of course, the moon. Dr. Teeth was driving, as usual; Zoot was napping near the front, also as usual; Animal was asleep on his lap, which was not as usual as the rest, but was fine regardless; and Floyd and Janice were sat next to each other near the back. Janice had taken the seat by the window for herself, with Floyd leaning against her arm, his fingers intertwined in hers. He struggled not to fall asleep to the soft music from the radio and the rhythmic bumps as the tires hit the occasional rock in the road.

Floyd looked up at his girlfriend, just taking in the view of her looking out the window. The moon hit her golden hair perfectly; he watched it flicker and glint as the moon ducked behind trees and burst out again. Even her face, too, was caressed ever so gently by the moonbeam, lighting her cheeks and lips in white and blue. Despite the night dampening his view, Janice was always glowing; she was his sun, shining bright and lighting up a room with every move, every smile, every beautiful word. He was in sweet serenity, by her side. He ran his thumb over her knuckles, and snuggled into her shoulder.

The radio’s tune changed into something more familiar, to the two of them - a song by an electric band that wasn’t quite their own. Floyd heard this (along with the volume going up incrementally - props to the Good Doctor), and turned to his girlfriend. “Janice... Darlin’,” He whispered, gently tapping her forearm. “‘S our song, on th’ radio.” His voice was deeper and raspier than usual; they’d had a gig they’d left just a couple of hours earlier, plus he was very tired. It was a good fit for him.

Janice snapped out of her trance, and looked off into the distance as it registered in her ears. As the song came to her, she looked down at him and smiled.

He could see this smile just slightly, with the moon and the dim candle light coming from nearby, and smiled back, feeling the blush rise to his cheeks. Every time she looked at him, he fell in love all over again. The whole scene played in his brain like a movie: He fell at a festival, and she helped him up; from then, they danced ‘til nightfall, and stayed in contact ever since... and here they were now. Floyd tightened his grip on her hand, shuffling his palm so they were farther in each other’s grip. “Brings back memories, huh?”

“Fer sure,” she replied with a heartfelt sigh. She leaned her head on his, nuzzling gently into his cap. “Do you, like, remember the night we met?” She asked. It was a clear memory for her, too.

“Like it was yesterday...” He gently shook his head, letting the movie loop over and over. “I remember that ya helped me up, n’ ya perfectly covered up th’ sun... But I didn’t feel any less sunshine beatin’ down on me, with yer beautiful smile above me.” He chuckled, and she did, too. “You’re so radiant, Janice... I love ya just as much as I did in that moment. I hope ya know that, darlin’.”

Janice blushed, too. “You always know just what to say~” Her smile was audible in her voice. “Do you, like, remember our first phone call?”

Again, Floyd chuckled. “Geez, don’t remind me. I was so embarrassin’ back then...”

“Yeah, embarrassing, maybe, but like, rilly cute.” She looped her free arm around his shoulders, and started playing with his hair, twirling it and weaving it in her fingers. “You were, like, trying to hard to impress me, and make sure I was okay... I really appreciated it, fer sure.”

“Of course I did. I’d just met’cha. I wanted nothin’ but to love ya.” He turned his head up, and gently pressed his nose to hers, taking in his view. “...Gosh you’re beautiful.” It was only a whisper, but it had so much emotion packed into it. Even despite all of that, he could never truly articulate how he felt for her. Not in words, not in actions. (Not even in interpretive dance, no matter how many times Dr. Teeth had suggested it.) “I love you, Janice.”

“I love you too, Floyd.” Slowly, their head tilted until the two of them were enveloped in a kiss. Floyd put his hand on Janice’s cheek, and Janice looped her arms around Floyd’s shoulders, but it wasn’t too long until this started to move. Soon enough, things had gotten deeper, and more passionate; Floyd’s hand had managed to travel to Janice’s thigh, and the two of them had inched into the corner of wall and seat back. Floyd moved his hand slowly up Janice’s side as he descended upon her, but as soon as he’d straddled her hips, a voice crackled through the aged intercom:

“You two know I can still see you, right?”

Floyd shot up as straight as a stick, face flushed as he stared at Dr. Teeth with a frown. The Good Doctor side eyed him right back with a shiteating grin, cradling the microphone gently in his palm. “If you two plan to make intimacies with each other on this fine evening, it would be appreciated if you at least paused until we approached our next stop. These walls are only as thin as the beaded curtain separating us, you know.” He laughed as he watched Floyd awkwardly climb out of his position, help Janice back to her original one, and sit next to her again. He promptly put the microphone back in its position, and turned back to watch the road again.

The lovebirds turned to each other and smiled. Floyd made a motion akin to rolling his eyes, and Janice laughed as they settled back into their original sitting positions.

And to think - out of the four hours that it would take to reach their destination, that had only been six minutes.


	7. the ruin of many a poor boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single drop of blood, tinted red-orange by the flame, fell onto the vinyl seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOUAH big tw for this one  
> \- SELF HARM BABEY PLEASE BE CAREFUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAH  
> uhhh this was inspired by the krbi's guitar cover of house of the rising sun. its not really relevant in topic but God It Carries An Energy.

Floyd held his arms in his hands, one elbow propped in his palm, with the other draped over (and scraping almost madly) at the opposite forearm. He caressed the thin scratches he’d made, lines of red littering a pre-marked territory of white and mauve. He was curled up in the corner of one of the seats of the bus, trying to cry - but nothing came out. His eyes ran dry, the evidence and trails of which he could feel on his cheeks, and his throat was sore. All that came out now were tight, ragged breaths, with the occasional cough into his shoulder. He was, by all definitions, a wreck.

He wasn’t sure what’d spurred all this. He hadn’t been able to get sleep, so he’d been thinking on his friends - he must’ve thought himself into a hole, and started going absentmindedly. Before he knew it, his shirt was stained, his ribcage was empty, and his whole body felt detached from itself. Certain things did bring this urge bubbling up again, but he hadn’t acted on it this horribly for years - he was almost disappointed for falling into it again this easily.

He snapped back to reality. He watched as a newer wound filled with blood, and followed the shine of the streetlight as it beaded on the corner and fell down his arm, dripping onto his shirt. Then, he noticed how much it’d already done that, and decided now wasn’t the time to space out.

He slipped off his shoes and stepped silently across the aluminum floor of the bus, reaching Dr. Teeth’s seat and crouching. “Leon,” he whispered, his voice destroyed and his tone urgent. “Leon, please...”

Dr. Teeth stirred, straightened his nightcap, and sat up better. “Floyd? Izzat you..?” He asked into the darkness. He stretched, fumbled around his seat for a candle, and searched with his other hand in his pocket for a match.

“Yeah,” Floyd’s voice shook with shame. “Do you, uh... Do you know where the first aid kit is?” In that instant, the wick of the candle burst to life, and Floyd was illuminated. A single drop of blood, tinted red-orange by the flame, fell onto the vinyl seat.

Dr. Teeth, in all of his intelligence and verbosity, was, for once in his life, left speechless.

Floyd looked away, scratching absently at his arm once more.

The doctor lifted the candle and got out of his seat, hobbling over to the front of the bus and taking a box not much smaller than a briefcase out from near the driver’s seat. Then, he pushed the bus’s doors open and nodded towards the open air. “C’mon,” he whispered. It wasn’t a proposal - it was an order.

With his head hanging and a hiccup in response, Floyd followed him out into the lot. The bitter, breezy August air stung his face. He gently bumped the doors shut with his head.

Dr. Teeth sat on the asphalt against the bus. He gestured for the spot next to him to be taken, and it was. He held out a hand.

Floyd glanced down at it, and pulled away a moment. Feeling the doctor’s eyes on him, he submitted with a shaky sigh, giving up his left arm. His eyes closed, and his figure sagged.

The first aid kit opened with a plastic click. The blood was mopped up and the arm was cleaned with a damp wipe. Then, it was wrapped in gauze. It seeped through quickly; Floyd had made quite a mess of himself.

As he taped the gauze shut, Dr. Teeth began to fill the silence. “...What happened?” He asked. He grabbed for the elastic bandage blindly (which was, in all honesty, fairly dangerous).

Floyd didn’t respond.

“Was this... occurrence, perhaps, a mishap?” He slid himself back into his normal speaking pattern.

Nothing.

“...Floyd?”

He began to tremble again, an expressive hiccup coming from him. He shook his head ever so slightly; the only implication The Good Doctor received of his gesture was the tips of Floyd’s mustache swaying in a force that wasn’t quite the wind.

Out of all the ways Floyd had gotten injured - and Dr. Teeth couldn’t count all the ways on his fingers - “his own intention” was never something he would’ve considered. The concern was expressed in his handiwork; his bandaging became slower.

“Aw- hh- Awful force’a habit,” Floyd choked out. “Came ‘bout back in ‘63. Got kkhhkicked outta my house, n’ never been- hh- quite the-the same since.” He grabbed intensely at his knee. Trails ran down his arm and stained his jeans; he didn’t seem to care. When the bandage was taped, he snapped his hand away, rubbing fiercely at his eye.

Now, the thing about Dr. Teeth and Floyd is that, as long as they’d known each other, they’d never really KNOWN each other. Dr. Teeth had only a small grasp on Floyd’s identity, and knew nothing about his journey here. Floyd had kept it that way on purpose; the less the outside knew, the better.

Dr. Teeth stumbled mentally. This was a lot of new information at once, all at a time he wasn’t prepared for any input at all. “...May I-“ He hopelessly pleaded.

Floyd stuck out his other arm, even if he wasn’t very happy about it. He choked back a sob. He choked, choked, choked... Then, he leaned into his upper arm, and cried. Somehow, that spirit was back. He pounded on his knee, cursing himself out mentally. As he cried, Dr. Teeth fixed up his other arm, and then brought himself closer. “Hey, man... Everything will turn out alri-“

“No. No it won’t, Leon.” Floyd spat out. Dressing the wound had taken a while; Floyd’s cries were almost desert-dry once more. “‘S been, what, 20-n’-some years since I last pulled this, n’ it came back t’ haunt me and won? It’s disgustin’...” He leaned back against the bus, and shuddered into the air. “I’m so weak.” He couldn’t help but feel that way.

Dr. Teeth wrapped a noodly arm around Floyd’s shoulder. “You’re not weak at all, Floyd. You’re very durable, actually, if I’m permitted to state so.” He laughed. He thought maybe a joke would lighten the mood. “You have an extensive support system out of all of us, for sure.”

Floyd laughed sadly. “‘f I told Zoot ‘r Janice that I’d done this again they’d kill me.” He closed his eyes, already picking absentmindedly at his bandages. “Animal wouldn’t be able t’ process it. ‘n you don’t know anythin’ ‘bout why.”

“Then why not let me understand why?” Dr. Teeth offered.

Floyd shot him a look.

“...Yeah that’s fair.” He sat there for a moment, simply cogitating. “Is there anything that I can do for you?”

“...’S my guitar still in th’ nets right’a th’ door?”

Pause. “...I believe so, yes.”

“Grab it.”

Dr. Teeth stood, retrieving the deep brown guitar and handing it to Floyd in as much silence as he could muster.

“Thanks.” Floyd took the guitar in his hands, tracing the scratches on the back of the neck with his thumb. He found the smudging of the paint where the palm rested and rubbed against so much; he found the scratches of a pick gone haywire, many on the rosette and many more far from it; he found the place where he’d scratched in his initials, at the time - A. S. - with scissors. Each mark had a memory attached, some good, some bad. Floyd resonated with that. This was his first ever guitar, he’d known it since he was little; he resonated with that, too.

He took a breath, closed his eyes, and played a somber tune into the quiet night. His head swayed and he hummed along. The way the aged strings twanged and buzzed felt like a twisted home to him; it put him on edge in the most calming way.

Dr. Teeth listened to him play, humming with him. However, after a few minutes, he noticed that the guitar dropped away, and the humming had been replaced with snoring. He opened his eyes and turned to see Floyd, exhausted, passed out with his head resting on the curves in the body. Floyd could fall asleep anywhere if he was tired enough. The doctor shook his head and laughed.

He scooped Floyd and his guitar up in one of his arms (he was a very light man) and opened the door with the other. He stepped inside, and searched for Floyd’s seat. Upon examining the scene, he decided that it would probably be best to leave him somewhere else. He slipped the guitar out of his arms, and rolled down his sleeves.

He watched Floyd’s chest rise and fall for a moment or two. He was happy to watch it rise as easily as it did.

 _Maybe that weight was lighter now_ , he thought.


	8. whats better than this? just guys bein dudes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “5, 6, 7 8 9 10-“ he lay backward, his head resting on Zoot’s lap, and looked up at the soft blue face- “I love you~”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LEV OY OZOYUUTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT  
> no tws for this one this is the only completely blessed fic int his whole thing and its like 20 words long what the fuck is up.  
> based on uhhh All Together Now by beatle.

“1, 2, 3, 4, can I have a little more?”

Zoot lifted his head and turned to see Floyd standing by his seat’s side, an old, brown acoustic being strummed to a melody he was sure he’d heard a million times - and yes, to him, too.

See, Floyd had been feeling more affectionate than usual, lately, and though yes, his primary piece of affection was Janice (they had recently gotten a pair of promise bracelets - rings were expensive), he really did feel the same love for most of those around him, especially Zoot. Hippies were like that, you know. Floyd sat with his back facing the other. “5, 6, 7 8 9 10-“ he lay backward, his head resting on Zoot’s lap, and looked up at the soft blue face- “I love you~” He finished with a final strum. That was all he wanted to play, really.

Zoot laughed. “That’s how you’re showing affection these days, huh?” He couldn’t say he was surprised. In fact, he appreciated it. He liked receiving love.

“Y’ say that as if yer complainin’~” Floyd crossed one leg over the other, and held one of Zoot’s hands in both of his, playing with his fingers. “I see you blushin’, don’t hide.” His smile was wide, almost dopey. He couldn’t help it.

Another nervous chuckle. Zoot felt his face start to tingle with the familiar feeling. He adjusted his glasses, glancing away. “As if I could.” It only spread when Floyd slid across his lap, sitting up and pecking him on the cheek. He wasn’t all that physical, but sometimes it wasn’t that bad.

Floyd leaned against Zoot’s shoulder, still holding his hand (with fingers entwined, now). His other looped around, hugging the saxophonist close, and cuddling against his face with a satisfied hum. He knew he was a lot more up-front about things than Zoot could be, but Zoot didn’t look uncomfortable, so he took it as an invitation to get comfy like this. “Love ya, Astro.”

Zoot shook his head, but smiled, tightening the grip on the hand he held. “Love you too.”


	9. why can't we laugh now like we did then?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t touch me,” Zoot demanded, panic rising in his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANOTHER GIANT TW that last one was a fucking break from the action babey  
> \- implied nsfw again  
> \- implied sexual abuse/csa (PLEASE DONT THINK IM SAYING THAT THIS IS A GOOD THING ITS A FUCKING AWFUL THING THAT SHOULDNT BE ROMANTICIZED AND IT SUCKS BUT IT HAPPENED its kinnie shit)  
> \- drug use/smoking

The heavy humidity in the air was from more than just the lack of ventilation in the hotboxed car.

The fog made most things near invisible, but in the light from the street lamp, shining metals, glasses, and liquids twinkled in the cloud. A bong sat on the middle piece of the seat in front; an abandoned lighter lay on the floor, its Zippo cap unfolded; and sweat beaded on Floyd’s forehead.

Zoot sat in the corner of seat back and doorway, supporting himself with an elbow. His hat had been long abandoned, and his sunglasses were sliding down his nose, but he was fairly content. Floyd was folded over above him, with one hand on the seat and the other tangled in the curly blue hair of his partner, holding them together in a slow, deep kiss. In their foggy, intoxicated state, the two of them had come to some snap decision to make like the other denizens of Haight and Ashbury and dissipate a war from home... and Floyd had to admit he was fairly excited.

His hand untangled from the curly mess of hair and started fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. He pulled away from their envelopment for just a moment - an accident, of course. “...sorry...” He huffed out, and got right back to it - this time, with more gusto. He melted into it, still fiddling.

Zoot melted into it, too. He even used a hand to try and help Floyd with his shirt. However, his enjoyment was cut short soon after as an unpleasant sensation slithered down his torso.

Floyd had given up on his shirt. He put his hand on Zoot’s jawline, and traced down his body - his path went to his neck, then his shoulder, all the way down his torso... That hand had traced itself to the inside of Zoot’s thigh, with the intent to rub and gently press with a thumb.

Zoot didn’t like this one bit.

As soon as he felt the hand on his leg, he panicked. This was a sensation that reminded of a situation in the past that, god, he’d gotten into this whole drug thing to try to forget about. His eyes shot open, and he shoved Floyd off of him, even kicking him in the stomach to get him to move farther away.

Of course, Floyd didn’t expect that. He shouted and wheezed as he was expelled to the other side of the car, his head hitting the window with a hollow thunk. He sat there, dazed and confused. “Wh- What did I-“ He reached out a hand.

Zoot smacked it away. “Don’t touch me,” he demanded, panic rising in his voice. He grabbed the lighter and a pack of cigarettes from the floor of the car, and hurried his way out of it, slamming the door loudly behind him.

He darted out a distance away from the car, leaning on the wall of a building in a nearby alley. Shaking, he put one of the cigarettes in his mouth, flicked open the lighter, and lit the end. The hard breath in of nicotine started to calm his nerves, but it didn’t calm the horrible, nervous burning of the axed path on his body.

He sniffled and took another deep draw.

•

“A- Aah- And th-hhh-hat’s why I- I didn’t want y- you to-to touch me.”

An hour or more had passed since Floyd and Zoot’s little endeavor. Now, the two of them were sat in the front seat, trying to work out the problem... But there was no real “working out” that could be done anymore. Zoot had explained his situation through exhausted, smoky tears, and was now a wailing mess in his seat.

All of this had dropped on Floyd like a few... hundred... thousand bricks. He knew it wasn’t his fault - how was he supposed to know? - but he couldn’t help but feel guilty for striking a nerve. He wasn’t sure what to say, either; he’d never encountered this problem before, and he was still a little buzzed. “Aw, man...” He tried to put a hand on Zoot’s shoulder, and Zoot jerked away. He wasn’t ready for any kind of touch yet. Floyd understood.

“I- I just- I wanna- I don’t know!!” His hands slid up and tangled into his hair, his sunglasses sliding and falling off of his face once more. His talking had completely developed into nonsensical sobs.

Floyd, out of ideas, clambered into the back and pulled out a blanket and one of Zoot’s stuffed animals, a small floppy dog toy. He wrapped the blanket around Zoot’s shoulders, and handed over the stuffed animal.

Zoot took it almost as if it kept him alive. He held it close, and snuggled hard into the blanket, sniveling and choking as he tried to calm down. “I- I’m sor-ry,” he finally coughed out.

“Don’t apologize, man. I’m sorry. I didn’t know tha-“

“Don’t.”

Floyd, again, understood. “Is there anythin’ I can do for ya now?” He asked.

“No. No,” Zoot replied. “Just... Thhis is fine. Can we just- just go t’ sle-ep now?” He asked.

“Absolutely.” Floyd switched off the remaining lights, and leaned his seat back. “If you need anythin’ - anythin’ at all, man, just let me know, okay? I want you t’ feel happy n’ safe here. I’d never want t’ make you feel bad.”

“Yeah,” Zoot choked out. “I- I will. ...Thank you.”

“Of course, Zoot.”


	10. we lived so well so long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Floyd was a loud crier, and Animal was a light sleeper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WAH tws again  
> \- refs to trauma (vague)  
> \- ref to self harm  
> but its ok!

“And I-hh- And I ain’t felt th’- the same ever since.”

Floyd, Zoot, and Animal were all sat on the floor of the bathroom in the motel room they’d rented out for the night. Floyd was leaning against the bathtub, barely dressed, having completely distracted himself from that train of operation by chasing his thoughts down the rabbit hole; he was even without his binder, and his hair was let loose. He stared with an empty gaze at the floor, on which lay a bladeless razor handle and the rest of his clothes, and held his arms in his lap, covered in white scratches that, thank God, hadn’t been deep enough to bleed; Floyd was a loud crier, and Animal was a light sleeper.

Animal sat next to him, with legitimate concern that was always buried under the surface finally breaking itself through in his face. Floyd had, in a hysteric episode of oversharing, spilled a whole lot of his traumatic experiences and general negative feelings about himself and his appearance; though Animal didn’t understand a lot of it, he was always ready to support the man who held his chain. He tilted his head, whined, and leaned against Floyd’s shoulder.

Zoot sat on his other side. He’d known Floyd all his life, and watched him go through all of this from, at the farthest, just a few doors down. He didn’t have the best memory - as proven many a time by many a thing, none of which he, ironically, could remember off of the top of his head - but he could recall and understand the feelings that Floyd had and why. He scooted forward an inch or two, and put his hand on Floyd’s shoulder. “I getcha, Floyd.” He said, worn voice already calming the other’s nerves. “I ain’t the best to help you with the whole...” He waved his hands in the air, as if he was trying to take the word out of it. “The whole... I don’t know, really. But I’ll be there for you, when you need me.”

“Yah-yah-yah,” Animal chimed in. “I no understand it... But want to help!” He really did have the spirit. He hugged Floyd around the waist, and suddenly broke into a shout: “Love Floyd! Love Flo-“

“Ssshhhhh, Animal.” Zoot put a finger to his lips. “It’s three in the morning.”

“...Right. Sorry,” Animal replied with a sheepish laugh, scratching the back of his head.

Floyd sighed, wiping tear tracks off of his face. “Thank th’ both’a ya fer tryin’ t’ help me... It makes me feel real special just t’ have you two as friends.” He looped an arm around each of them, hugging them closer, just a tad. “...Can I keep goin’? I still... Got a bit more to say.”

“Of course. To both of those things,” Zoot replied. Animal nodded eagerly in agreement.

“Thanks,” the third replied, sighing and gently leaning his head back. “Sometimes, I just wanna... Detach, y’know? This body’s been through... Too much. ‘S beat up, n’ worn, n’ ain’t got drive to it no more.” He sighed, sliding down in his seat a little bit. “I need a new body, man. I used this one too much.” He did have basis to his claims; he’d gotten himself injured multiple times, in the pettiest of ways. Some parts of him even had permanent tinting or scarring from the nature-given beatings he’d sustained. Some nights, especially the ones he’d spent in some sort of hospital, he wondered if one day his body was just going to fall apart, like an old, well-loved doll - but he was sad to say that a lot of the reason of injury was far from love.

Zoot nodded. “I getcha,” he said. “I get that feeling myself sometimes. There ain’t any other way t’ get rid of it aside from ‘don’t think about it.’ It’s hard, but there ain’t much we can do ‘bout it.” He gave a shrug and a head tilt of defeat.

Floyd nodded back. “I usually just wait it out or play it off. I don’t like the feelin’, but I guess it’s a given when ya get beat up this bad, huh?” The laugh he wheezed out was sad, like the sound of a deflating balloon or a dud bubble wrap bubble. He tried to find humor in everything - but there wasn’t much to find here.

“We will always be here to help you,” Animal said, hugging Floyd only tighter. “Sometimes...” He paused to think. “Sometimes it hard to care. No think you are worthy of care. But... You are!” He smiled, nuzzling against Floyd’s chest like a cat.

A tired, wheezy laugh squeezed itself out of Floyd’s lungs. “That’s one’a th’ most empathetic things you’ve ever said, Animal.” He nuzzled back, humming deep as he settled in.

“That’s ‘cuz he loves you, Floyd.” Zoot leaned in, holding the hand that the other had looped around his shoulders. “And I love you too. We might not get your feelings th’ way you have ‘em, but we’ll be right here t’ support you in any way we can.”

Floyd sighed as the others leaned into him. “I love you both so much,” he said, sighing and settling in. He fell asleep soon after to the sound of his friends’ breaths and the buzz of the fluorescent bulb.

Maybe everything would be alright after all.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirty hippies, he thought, storming backstage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tws baeby.  
> \- blatant transphobia. like its really out there. this canon's sam eagle sucks  
> \- that's it  
> thanks ily

The Electric Mayhem had been in the building for probably three minutes, and Sam was already sick of them. They had come in chatting and sounding up a storm; one of them was held on a chain by another (most likely some sort of fetishistic display of dominance, Sam noted, though he also took into account that the thing in the collar did look fairly... _inhuman_ , so to speak); a third’s eyes were closed so tight - most likely from cannabis, judging the rest of her appearance and posse - that she looked as if she could barely see; the fourth one looked... at least fairly level-headed, though he also just looked like he ran blind through a secondhand store; and the fifth had already fallen asleep in one of the Muppet Theater’s back seats, his feet propped up on the row in front of him.

The one on the chain was running loose, now, almost stumbling around the theater on his hands and feet, taking in the sights and feeling the air rush in his face - and none of the other musicians seemed to care. The one previously holding him was now infatuated with the curtains, feeling at the fabric and rolling the folds between his fingers. “Real velvet!” He shouted, and whistled, lowering his voice. “This’s th’ prettiest damn venue we’ve ever played in... Hey, Teeth!”

The one that looked like a bull in an antique shop turned. “Yeah?”

“How long we playin’ here?” The first shouted.

The second, who somehow unironically went by the name “Teeth,” sat in thought. “Not sure,” he sent back. “Allow me to interritate the frog, and I’ll get back to ya.”

Really? Sam thought. The frog? That’s all you’re going to call your superior? He scoffed at the thought. He watched as the fashion disaster stalked his way in Kermit’s direction, folding his hands and playing with the pawned rings on his fingers, and straightened his posture, puffing up his feathers to make himself look even bigger than he already was.

Teeth bent down to Kermit and smiled. “Evenin’.” He said. “We are-“

“ **IS, AM, ARE, AND BE!** ” The one playing with the curtains shouted from the other side of the stage.

The closer sighed and cleared his throat. “We is, am, are, and be they whom as are known as Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem.”

“ **THANK YOU.** ”

“I believe we came when we were requested.” He said, finally finishing his statement.

Kermit looked down at his clipboard and clicked his pen open. “Yes, yes, you’re right here.” He made a check mark where the name of the band was typed. “And you are?”

“Doctor Leon Teeth. Golden teeth and golden tones.” He appeared to have a catchphrase. Sam caught sight of the golden tooth and felt very inclined to put his head in his wings and scream.

“...Yeah.” Kermit replied, noting “Dr. Teeth” next to his name. “And you have Janice.”

Dr. Teeth pointed to Janice - the one with the very stoned eyes, who was now being flirted with by the one who’d been playing with the curtain - and acknowledged her.

Another check. “And... Au-“

“Floyd. Call him Floyd,” Dr. Teeth interrupted.

“...But it says here that her n-“

“Call him Floyd.” He insisted it so. “...Sometimes ‘legal’ doesn’t always match up with ‘real.’ Dig it?”

Kermit sat confused for a moment. Then, it clicked in his head, and he scratched out the name, taking “Floyd” in the margin beside it. “Floyd St-“

“Pepper.”

He bent down and wrote again. “Floyd Pepper” sat where the old name used to be.

Sam had caught on to this as well. His brow furrowed, and he peered down at the clipboard. He needed to know Pepper’s real name, to address it as such; that was only proper and businesslike of him, after all. If he didn’t, he may be breaking some sort of code... or making _it_ feel like it didn’t need to stay in its place.

Kermit scribbled a note and a check, to acknowledge Zoot’s presence.

Dr. Teeth took his hand. “It is a highly pleasurable event to be working here with you, Kermit.” He kissed the top of the hand, smiled at his new boss, and strolled off to join the rest of his bandmates.

Sam leaned over. “So... This new Muppet Show is supposed to be a wholesome family program, isn’t it?” He asked - no, stated - to Kermit.

“Oh, well, of course, Sam.” He replied. “It’s a variety show, we want it to be appealing to, well- a variety.”

“So why do we have a cluster of filthy counterculturalists playing as our house band.”

“Well, they play pretty well, and their pay rate is low.”

The eagle scoffed. “Maybe it is when they start out. I’m sure in time they will slowly reveal their entitlement.” He straightened himself up again, and began to walk off.

“Hey- Hey, Sam, you gotta give them a cha-“

“I will not.” He stated simply. “And I highly recommend that you hire a real pit orchestra once this whole production falls through.”

_Dirty hippies_ , he thought, storming backstage.


	12. [crawling out of locker] screw you sage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he walked, Floyd noticed something, hanging in the exit doorway. It was a small sprig of leaves, with little white berries, tied to the top of the doorframe. It dangled just above eye level, but still very much in sight. Yes, mistletoe was hung in the most blatant and unavoidable location it could be - and he and Zoot were walking together at the same pace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was based on an art my zoot did for me for christmas that made me cry like an idiot on voice call for twenty minutes. im not kidding it was literally 20 minutes.  
> it makes me so fucking happy i tried to end on a good note

The sun had already set on the evening of December 24, leaving the air with a cold chill and the sky with a gentle dusting of snow and starstuff. Backstage, the Muppet Theater Troupe was closing up their final show of the season; the air was filled with chatter and the clicking of instrument cases, and the crowd slowly dwindled as people left to spend time with their friends and families. Eventually, the lights were shut off, the doors were locked, and the building was empty... Save for two.

Floyd and Zoot were both awkwardly shuffling through their belongings, packing their instruments and dressing room necessities into their cases and shrugging on their coats. Before everyone had started trickling out the back door, Kermit had given a passionate farewell speech, relaying the messages of the importance of family and tradition, and wishing a blanketed “Merry Christmas.” Of course, neither the bassist nor the sax player could sit comfortably with this, both for separate reasons; they knew of their own and each other’s problems with it, and decided not to bring it up. This was the season of festivity, after all, and no one wants to be depressed during that.

Floyd shrugged on his blazer and walked to where Zoot was packing his saxophone. “...Want me t’ get yer jacket?” He asked.

Zoot gestured to his jacket, already retrieved and laying on the table to his right. “Got it,” he stated simply, closing the lid of the faded case and snapping shut the latches. He sat for a moment, patting the lid as he gathered his thoughts.

Again, Floyd acknowledged the jacket. “There.”

“...Right,” Zoot said with a chuckle. “Thanks.” He stood from his chair and put on his jacket, pulling it and zipping it in that cozy, niche way he always did. He brought his sax case off the table slowly. “Ready t’ go?” He asked.

Floyd lifted the strap of his case over his head and rested it on his shoulder. “Yeah,” He said, taking one last, long look at the environment. It wasn’t technically his last, but it would be until the next year that they were here again... It gave him a strange feeling. He snapped himself out of it, turning back to Zoot and smiling softly at him. “We should prob’ly hurry, the uh- the others’re waitin’ for us.”

“Mhm.” Zoot let Floyd catch up, and the two of them strolled towards the exit. There was some strange environmental blanket over them, over the whole theater. It could’ve been the cold; maybe it was the dark; maybe it was already the building dust of the old theater. Whatever it was, it was an emotional weight - some strange morose, a sort of homesickness, and a pinch of sourceless anxiety, because what’s any strange hodgepodge of emotions without anxiety?

As he walked, Floyd noticed something, hanging in the exit doorway. It was a small sprig of leaves, with little white berries, tied to the top of the doorframe. It dangled just above eye level, but still very much in sight. Yes, mistletoe was hung in the most blatant and unavoidable location it could be - and he and Zoot were walking together at the same pace. He felt his muscles tighten, his jaw clench, and his face tinge with a deeper pink.

Zoot noticed the plant, too, and decided to say something about it. “Hey, what is this thing, man?” He asked, approaching the thing hanging in the doorway. He grabbed it by a leaf, and spun it around, trying to see if he could recognize it. He couldn’t help not knowing; he’d never paid attention to Christmas tradition.

Floyd stood opposite of him in the doorway, face downcast, a hand on the back of his neck. He stumbled over his thoughts, trying to put this in the least awkward and the most delicate way possible. “It’s, uh... Mistletoe,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other on the big reveal. “Uh, people who celebrate Christmas... They- uh, um, they hang it up, like, as a decoration. When two people’re under it at once, they, uh...” He stared awkwardly at his shoes, tapping his foot as he mumbled out the end of his sentence. His shoulders tightened, and his face tinted a yet deeper shade of pink.

Zoot simply made a confused noise. He tucked his hair behind his ear, and turned and leaned in a bit. “Couldja repeat that last part, man? Y’know my hearin’ ain’t as good as it used t’ be.”

“Uh... They have to, uh...” Floyd’s weight shifted again. He wasn’t sure how Zoot was going to respond; he and Zoot could get awfully affectionate, but Floyd had always made sure that it was nothing that the other would be uncomfortable with - like romantic acts. Yes, Floyd did want to kiss Zoot, but he wasn’t sure if the favor would be returned. Feeling his heart tighten and curl, he finally spat it out: “They have t’ kiss.”

Blue blush rose to Zoot’s cheeks. He never thought Floyd would be this embarrassed about something like that; he’d seen Floyd openly gloat about his much more lecherous escapades, and had DEFINITELY seen him flirt with him before... but Zoot was sure he understood that feeling - and he reciprocated the wish that came with it. He took Floyd’s free hand, stepping ever so slightly closer - not just to him, but to the mistletoe. “Hey, man, y’don’t gotta be this embarrassed over it.” He put his other hand on Floyd’s face, tilting ever so gently upward.

Out of all the responses Floyd could’ve gotten, he’d never expected this one. His face flushed darker as he looked Zoot straight in the... Glasses, and warily stepped forward. “What?”

“...I mean...” Zoot took Floyd’s other hand, smiling his soft little smile. “You’ve gone outta your tradition for my stuff, too, man. I wouldn’t mind returnin’ the favor.” He didn’t even need to say it; just that made his intentions clear.

The realization finally dawned upon Floyd as to what Zoot’s intentions were. “You- Y’mean-“

Zoot nodded. “I mean.” He leaned in, just a little, and put his hands on Floyd’s waist.

Floyd matched Zoot’s arm positioning (if not a little bit off), and stood on his tip toes to reach.   
Slowly, and with much anticipation, the gap between them closed. They pulled closer together, a calm and cozy vibe with undertones of an undying need for closeness radiating from each of them.

Floyd’s arms slid up Zoot’s back to get a better hold. His feet shifted as he stabilized his stance, and he tilted his head just a little bit to make things more comfortable. His chest felt tight, like it was going to explode, and his hands shook with adrenaline. He’d been waiting 20-some years for this - who knew it’d be this simple?

Zoot’s hands settled a little better on Floyd’s waist, but, of course, did not move. He hummed into the kiss, strangely contented with how it went over. It brought a warm feeling to his face and his heart, and generally calmed him down... Love calmed him down.

They stayed like that for a long time, gently repositioning and coming apart and together for the gap of time that they filled. But, of course, they eventually separated, leaning into each other for a moment.

A dorky smile and then an embarrassed laugh both bubbled to Floyd’s surface, some happy hysteria pushing all emotional resistance away from him. He held Zoot around the shoulders, and pecked all over his face, honestly completely enamored with the other man.

Zoot laughed at the sensation, dipping away reflexively without actually dipping away. “F- Floyd, c’mon, we gotta goooo-“ He protested, but his adamance was only in his words. In reality, he was holding Floyd near him, almost bringing him closer. Floyd’s mustache brushed against his face, and soon enough, the both of them were near-uncontrollably laughing.

After another while, Floyd finally calmed down, coming back onto his feet and linking his arm with Zoot’s. They looked at each other, both smiling wide, and Floyd leaned his arm on Zoot’s shoulder, nuzzling into the fabric of his jacket.

For the first time in years, they both felt comfortable.


End file.
